The Epilogue of George Weasley
by BenevolenceinViolet
Summary: In the 6 years its been since the Battle of Hogwarts, how has George Weasley coped with the loss of his twin? How has his means of dealing with it affected his family? Can a nest of Greenlandish Icetails provide him a remedy for his deepest hurt?
1. If Only It Were Midnight Six Years Ago

George lay awake in his bed, listening to the sounds of outside silence press down on his ears in a sickening ring. The room was so quiet, so dark, so...dead. There he lay, alone and tucked under the covers, the bed beside his completely made and untouched for the last six years. George frowned at the memories he still held to so dearly from exactly six years ago this very night, the night poor Fred had met his end. It hit him now and again in the last few years, exactly how heavy the loss of his brother had been to him. Fred had been George's best friend since the day he was born, always there to hear his tragic tales of dating woe, always around to giggle at the scent of a dung-bomb driving people out of houses and shops, always everything to him no one else could be. The had been inseparable their entire lives from birth to their final year at Hogwarts. Secretly, he blamed himself for all of it. It was the first time they had been separated, TRULY separated, in their lives. George had insisted on going with dad, fearing the ramparts would be too dangerous for their elderly father, and sent Fred with Percy. Percy was a more than capable wizard, Fred would be perfectly safe...right? Months after the Battle for Hogwarts George lay awake, second-guessing his instinctive decision and hating himself more and more for it. He glanced towards his night stand and reached for his wand, hesitating when he remembered it was not there and trading the wand for a pound of his fist on the aged maplewood surface. The table flipped, spilling a lantern and a number of matches on the cracked hardwood floor.

Mum had taken the wand when she found him atoning for is wrongs in his own flesh, the wand tip had served as his knife well enough. He lifted a pale arm into the glare of the moonlight through the slit window set horizontally over the two headboards resting leisurely against the wall and examined the various marring. Each line grinned back at him in a sadistic smile of raised, pinkish flesh that had never properly healed. He had been insistent on leaving the marks "to remind himself how stupid it was" when Ginny approached him with a bottle of Rejuvenation Potion, rolling his sleeve back down over his bony arm. George had played his cards right when the interrogation happened, fed them every excuse and remorseful word they wished to hear, and was allowed his regular freedoms: minus his wand. Molly kept that in a locked drawer in the master bedroom, giving it to him only when she needed him to help her with something. The supervision might as well have been left to dementors given the way Harry and Ron had hovered over him as he shot streamers and sculpted tiny cakes in preparation for the union of dear Ginny and the Boy Who Lived. By the way, the wedding was fantastic. Everyone had been there, Charlie from Romania with his girlfriend Lena, Bill and Fleur with their baby Victoire, Percy and his "co-worker" Jasmine, Ron and his darling Hermione, Auntie Muriel who refused to pass on, Dean, Seamus, Lee, Luna, and Neville among hundreds and hundreds of others. The carefully chosen rose garden deep in the heart of Wales had just barely managed to swell itself up large enough to hold the mammoth amount of people, both invited and uninvited alike.

He felt himself lose his cool then, a few tears sliding down his cheeks as he turned his head and imagined his brother laying sound asleep at this very moment. He imagined waking him up on the day of the wedding, shoving an exploding poppy into his jacket collar and laughing, standing next to him as Ginny walked up the aisle looking nothing short of angelic in her long, flowing white dress with the glittering goblin-made tiara resting on her head. George rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into his pillow, shuddering violently with sobs as he realized it was never real.

  


The door creaked open, a harsh ray of sunlight slicing into the dusty midday shadow creeping through that same slit window. Someone trod on the squeakiest floorboards as loud as they could, no effort to respect the docile peace of the sleeping redhead. George grabbed his second pillow and slammed it pointedly over his good ear, letting out an irritated groan. A hand grabbed the pillow and ripped it from his grasp, tossing it into a shadowy corner with a loud puff, "Wake up." Charlie's voice demanded. George didn't move. Charlie got to his feet and gripped the end of the deep blue blanket emblazoned with a crescent moon, "George, I swear I'll do it if you don't get the hell out of bed right now." Another groan answered. Charlie pulled. George yelled.

"Hey! I said I was getting up!" George shouted, curling up into a ball and glaring down at his second-to-oldest brother, "What on earth could you want at this hour of the bloody morning? No respect." He was impatient and irritable, his grouchy insomniac self getting the better of his groggy nature.

"Mum, Dad, the rest of the family, and myself are tired of watching you lounge around and mope. You need to get out into the wizarding world and do something already," Charlie lifted a hand to cut off any interjection that could have been made, "Ron's doing the Auror thing, Bill's got Gringott's, Percy has the Department of Magical Security, Dad has his Muggle Studies, I'm researching dragons, and you're ruddy well laying in bed being a bump on a log." George retained his irritable scowl, reaching for the pillow underneath his head and slamming it over his good ear. No use, that pillow was tossed, too, " I'll remove these pajamas even if it's with my dying breath, get out of bed and get downstairs. I'm giving you ten minutes and I don't care if you're clean."

George watched Charlie's back as he left the room, leaving no more room for argument. The door creaked and swung shut being him, footsteps disappearing downstairs into the kitchen where he assumed his parents lay in wait. He muttered ungratefully at the rude awakening he had been given, climbing out of bed and storming over to the aging dresser. He pulled a white undershirt on over his head, dragging on a pair of worn-in whitewashed jeans and a wrinkled white and green striped overshirt he had recovered from a pile of clothing stuffed into the wardrobe in the corner. The buttons didn't quite match up, but he didn't seem to care when he sat back on the bed and angrily shoved his feet into a pair of clean white socks. His heart stopped when he realized the one on the left had an "F" on it, not a "G". George went on.

He made his way downstairs and hesitated in the doorway of the kitchen. Ron and Hermione had been in the house for a few days, popping in to visit, and now sat around the long family table with Mum and Dad, Charlie and the stunning Lena, and Percy himself. The conversation died instantly and everyone looked up to smile at him cheerily in a silent united "Good Morning" manner. George rewarded them with a half-hearted wave and walked towards the coffee pot that had already lifted itself in the air and begun pouring him a glass. Eggs leaped from a warm pan on the stove, canadian-style bacon crawled up to nest beside the scrambled mess. The breakfast plate lay in wait until George scooped it up and made a seat for himself at the end of the row, right beside Ron, "Good morning everyone." He didn't move his eyes from his plate as he forcibly shoveled food into his mouth, the occasional swig of coffee refreshing him for more. Breakfast never seemed to last long enough, especially with several pairs of eyes watching you through the whole event.

It was Hermione who spoke first, a nice release from the pressure of the aching morning tension, "So Charlie, tell us again where you and Lena are off to next?" she was speaking strangely, louder than normal and more direct. Hermione was never this direct. Ron patted her leg gently, shooting her a winning grin that she returned cheerfully. George's eyes furrowed and he sipped the rest of his coffee disdainfully, determined to ignore the conversation.

"We're off to Croatia next, there is a cave housing a next of new-born Greenlandish Icetails buried in one of the glaciers to the west. They're sending a team of researchers over there for Departments all over the world. Icetails were rumored to be rare to extinct, but some old scientist fell through the snow and discovered the nest of those little buggers. Mum had been gone before they were born, dunno what happened to her." Charlie beamed at his whole family and craned over towards George, "Doesn't that sound incredible, Georgey?"

Ah yes, he had discovered their horribly concealed plan, "Not really," he retorted curtly," don't much care for dragons." He didn't really think this was the end of it.

"Well," Molly Weasley piped up, "isn't that just too bad." She wasn't trying to hide the irritation in her voice, "I feel so horrible to be the one to tell you, Ungrateful George," not trying to hide the sarcasm either, "but you, Charlie, and Lena are going to go see these dragons you have no interest in. I want you out of the house. You're making it hard on the rest of us with your negative attitude."

Selfishly, he considered yelling at her, reminding her it was _his_ twin who died that day, _his_ best friend he had lost. She hardly even knew him an inch as well as George had. He tightened his grip on the cup handle, the biting pain on the flat edge dragged him back to reason. Fred had been as much her son as he had his brother. It must have been just as difficult to look down on the pale, vacant face of someone you had bore of your own flesh and blood and know they would never look back at you again. He held his peace and sighed, "I'm twenty-five years old, mum. I can make my own decisions."

"Not if you decide to live in this house, George Weasley, I will simply not have this a moment longer." she grabbed the cup from his hand and with a wave of her wand set to work on the dishes. Mrs. Weasley's "That-was-that" attitude filled the air with another uncomfortable quiet, causing the remaining guests to shift uncomfortable and look to each other for some sort of silent comfort from the horrible situation they had put themselves in.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat to break the awkward feeling that had rested to accustomed on their shoulders once again, "Well that was indeed a lovely breakfast, indeed. Thank you, Mollsey." he grinned at her encouragingly, she merely shot him a look and kept cleaning dishes, "I'm off to gnome the garden, anyone care to join me?"

George thought about raising his hand urgently, dying to remove himself from the feeling of deliberate awkwardness, when Charlie spoke up for him and crushed his dreams of escape, "Lena and I have to help George pack, but I'm sure Ron and Percy are more than willing to-"

"Oops, look at the time. I'll be late for work!" Percy half leaped from the table and ran for the chimney, vanishing in a puff of green flames. Ron opened his mouth to say something to similar effect, silenced by Hermione's tug on his hand as she volunteered him again for the job. She excused herself with some knitting appointment with Mrs. Weasley she had making a jumper for the little bulge under her robes that was starting to grow by the day. George was silent, the look on his face betrayed him and Molly nudged him roughly between the shoulders.

She leaned over and whispered harshly in his ear, "You get up there and get packed."

George swatted her away as if she were a fruit fly, jerking out of his chair. Charlie and Lena followed quickly as he marched himself upstairs, a suitcase was already open and waiting on his bed, his want laid neatly inside of it. So this was it, huh, they were kicking him off to Croatia to spend a summer staring at dragons. He could think of nothing in the world more exciting, nothing at all, as he resisted the urge to toss himself down the rickety flight of aging stairs and claim injury.


	2. I Am Not A Train Wreck Anymore

A/N: Please RR, I like feedback :) Yes, I know I threw a few OCs in there and I apologize, but the boys can't be single forever. Come on now.

George Weasley drew the heavy coat serving as his makeshift blanket tighter over his shoulders, trying in vain to fend off the biting cold seeping into the train compartment he shared with both Charlie and Lena. He stole a glance over at the couple slumbering quietly under the only heavy woolen blanket they had thought to bring. He watched Lena for a moment and decided she could be considered attractive after all, despite the splattered scars resulted from her line of work. Her cornhusk blonde hair was cropped short midway down her face and contoured into a slight flair, only one strand curled inwards around her left eye. He liked Lena's eyes a lot, when they were open they were a rich brown so dark it was almost black. Her flaws rested on the few scars on her cheeks and nose she had earned working with Charlie in Bombay on a wily Indian Curlsnout a few summers back when they first met, they hit it off immediately in the emergency room in Delhi.

George smiled faintly and looked up at the door to the compartment. Quietly as he could, he rose to his feet and pulled the coast on over his shoulders and stepped outside into the hallway. It was warm in the hallway, like stepping off a plane into the caribbean, and he took a moment to reach down and rub the chill from his calves before setting on a limb-stretching stroll through the luxury train. Most of the cabins had been left open and George could not resist a glance inside every so often to gauge his fellow passengers, a woman toting a cart laden with chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, and hot butterbeer smiled and waved at him as she walked passed. He returned it humbly and continued on down towards the dining cart, stealing looks in open compartments.

He stumbled backwards as someone collided with him in the middle of the hallway, cradling his chin with a cry of pain, "Jesus! Watch where you're going, will you?!" he was staring at a boy around fifteen, a hand on his eyebrow. The boy was shorter than he should be for his age, but broad-shouldered. He was a Durmstrang student, the black and red phoenix sewn proudly into the left breast and the black and brown fur cloak he had wrapped over his arm. The boy spared no expense in his glower, milk chocolate eyes sharp beneath silky black hair, "I said to watch where you were going."

The dining car door opened before George's mouth could and a girl slightly taller than the boy poured into the hallway, her back to George, "Ruslan! Lord, you have _got_ to start watching your step! I swear! I can't watch you at school anymore and you know that," she seemed to be fussing over his bump, "You're going to be the only one starting the year off with a battle scar. We'll think up a story to tell later." George couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. Finally, she turned around to acknowledge him, "I'm sorry about my brother, he can be kind of a klutz sometimes," she smiled pleasantly, "He's sorry, but horrible with words."

The girl seemed pleasant enough to apologize for her brother the way she did. Suddenly, her hand was stretched in front of him waiting a shake. George wrapped his fingers around hands so small and fragile his fingers touched in the other side, "Morna Reed. This is my brother Ruslan Reed. I'm sorry about all the mess, is there anything I can get you for your face? Butterbeer? Roast beef sandwich?" her bright, caribbean ocean eyes were filled with concern for his well-being. She scowled sidelong at Ruslan, though he couldn't see it over the wide, slow curls or black hair falling down just past her shoulders.

"George Weasley, and no it's all right. I'll be fine, only an accident," he smiled back at her and shot a wink at her brother. The boy was all shades of unfriendly, never acknowledging the wink or his sister's glare, and seemed more intent on simply getting on with his life than recompense for his injury of the older once-twin, "I think we'll both survive."

She seemed intent on getting under her brother's skin, "No really, I insist, please, let me treat you to something small at least. You have a great bump on your chin now and it's only getting worse. My brother's treat, I promise." Ruslan showed his first sign of concern at that, his whole body tensing up as he growled her name under his breath. He promptly received an elbow to the side. Morna seemed intent on not letting go of the matter, her expression friendly and firm despite the evident laugh lines serving as makeshift dimples even when she didn't smile. She was a girl of good nature and only wanted to repent for someone else's wrongdoings.

He heaved a sigh and nodded once, "All right. A warm butterbeer sounds nice, but it's really not necessary, honestly-"

A slight hand cut him off, her face lit up with a huge, good-natured smile and she held out that same hand to Ruslan. The boy begrudgingly fished around in his pocket for a moment then produced two sickles and dropped them heavily in her hand. Even though this was all against his obvious desire, he never uttered a single complaint and George found it easy to admire him for at least that much. Morna patted Ruslan's shoulder, "You want one, too, buddy? You're going to miss these at school." When he shook his head and moved carefully around George, Morna sighed, "I wish he would stop being such a grouch all the time, I mean really. He's fifteen going on fifty," she looked back at him, "Oh well, how about your 'beer?" her hand reached around his and tugged him forwards to the dining car. George found himself helpless and followed her fast-paced walk through the doors and down the car's center aisle. She found them a quiet window-side booth and let go of him, seating herself close to the window.

He sat across from her, quite adjusted to the awkwardness this sort of meeting would have caused. George didn't smile at his recollection of the events at the Burrow before he had begun this lengthy journey to the middle of bum nowhere to stare at dragons. He dimly recalled the near argument he and Charlie had as they waited on Platform 11 1/2, squabbling over George's social detachment and his recently accumulated sense of hostility he had taken up in the space since Fred had passed away. It was true, he thought, he had lost that spice for life he and Fred had shared. He wasn't happy anymore, not really, and never relished in social functions. Pranks weren't funny, jokes were stale, he just didn't have a sense of humor anymore. Everything was always this bleak, dramatic, disparaging problem and it took yards of effort just to wake up and deal with it.

"...going to see the dragons?" Morna's voice cut in to his anxious thoughts.

"Hm? Sorry, my mind is just all over the place today." George felt his cheeks redden, he wasn't used to having people talk to him anymore. No one did much in the house and he hadn't heard from many of his friends. Harry and Charlie were really the only people he spoke to anymore.

"I asked if you were going to see the dragons. The only other stop is Udbina in Croatia where that scientist fell on those poor baby dragons." she smiled at the attendant who laid two butterbeers in front of them, she lifted hers up and sipped at the hot foam, "We're going to drop Ruslan off with the school and meet my sister for the day." Morna looked up at him slightly apologetically again, "Oh, sorry, I'm on the train with my dad and Russ."

He gave one of his famous faint smiles to her and nodded, "Durmstrang? I saw the robes," he added quickly as she opened her mouth, "And yes, I am off to see dragons with my brother and his girlfriend. They're independent researchers who chase dangerous creatures for a living." he kept it short and sipped his drink sparingly. It was far too cold to gulp down anything so warm and put himself into thermal shock, "I'm not quite interested in them, but it will do me good to get out of the house for a while."

Morna smile again and nodded, "I know what you mean, my family thinks I spend too much time inside all day. I suppose they never that us living in northern Finland had anything to do with it," although George hadn't asked and didn't think he looked quizzical, she spilled her story out to him, "You see, my father is a Muggle and he works for the Scottish government doing aquatic research. My mum is a witch born and raised in London most of her life, she works for a small, special school dedicated to the watch and care of abandoned Squibs left in various wizarding places. They shipped me off to Durmstrang to get my magical education and now they're doing the same to Russ," she paused for a moment and let her smile falter for just a moment, "It's not so bad though. They're wonderful people and we love them. Anyway," she seemed to be enjoying telling someone all about her life and tales, "I graduated three years ago and ended up at the Magical Parliament in France. I didn't like working in educational system reform so I quit and hopefully I'll get a job working with my sister for the Ministry of Magic in England in the Ministry of Mysteries. I want to do research into wands and wandmaking and open my own shop and be a wandmaker." she grinned brightly at him, her eyes wide and curious. She wanted to know all about George Weasley now, as if they were trading stories.

"I don't know what I want to do." he was curt, unintentionally really, and returned to drinking and watching the scenery whizz by. He didn't really know what to say to her. It was difficult opening up now to new people, it was lonely without someone who knew him to guard his back. George looked back over at her and watched her as she clutched her cup in both hands and out the window with him. She wasn't smiling anymore, her blue eyes looked focused under her bangs and he couldn't help but grin. Anyone else would think she was thinking about the scenery, but he knew exactly what that look was. She wasn't thinking about anything. He smiled.

George closed the dining compartment door behind Morna, turning around to face another outstretched hand. He shook it more firmly this time and nodded politely, "Thank you for the drink, Ms. Reed. It was unnecessary, but very much appreciated I assure you. Tell your brother it's all right and I hope the conk on his head goes away soon."

She laughed for the first time since he'd met her, which surprised him as she came off a very laughable girl. It was sweet and airy, a very nice sound he didn't hear genuinely a lot. Her laugh was very genuine. "It was the least I could do, honestly. My brother needs to learn a bit of social grace and maybe nipping at his allowance will teach him to watch where he goes. I know it seems petty and stupid, but it will do him so much good in the long run," she hesitated a second before breaking off the handshake, "Please, if we ever run into each other again, just Morna is fine." She turned her back to him and took off at a brisk walk down the side aisle, disappearing in a sharp right around the middle train compartment block.

He started slowly on his way back to his train compartment, opening the door without really thinking about keeping himself quiet. Charlie and Lena were up and awake when he got back, folding their blanket and talking softly. They both halted abruptly when George came in. Lena was the first to speak, her expression breaking into a cheery grin, "Well! You scared the hell out of us when you weren't here. What've you been up to? I can't think a train would be a barrel of monkeys for you all alone," she studied his face more carefully, "Oh my gosh, George, where did you get that bruise?!" Lena's hands were on his face at once, staring at the mark that was only getting darker by the moment.

"Oh, this? Yeah...some kid bumped me in the hall. I was just going to get some food. It's nothing, really, it'll be gone in a few days." he laughed nervously. It wasn't genuine.


End file.
